Girls
by Samlie
Summary: So there they were. Twenty-two; blonde; insane out of his mind. Seventeen; brunette; energetic little ball of sunshine, but otherwise naive and young.


**So, I got this idea when the song Girls by The 1975 was stuck in my head for the entire day! It was driving me crazy, so I got this little one-shot out of it. Just what my mind interprets out of the song. I know there are other meanings for the song, but this is just my little take on it, featuring a certain blonde and brunette!**

 **Please tell me what you think of this!**

 **Enjoy! I don't own anything!**

* * *

Their tongues collided once again. His hand slid up the back of her shirt, taking his time, teasing her. She moaned into his mouth. Their mouths continued to make sweet smacking noises against each other. She grabbed the dirty-blonde hair at the base of his neck, pulling him back down as they broke apart to gain oxygen.

He bit her bottom lip lightly as she opened her mouth, allowing him access once more. Their teeth clashed lazily as his thumbs drew small circles on her cheeks. She let out a whimper as their kisses went back to the soft, chaste kisses on the lips.

He always had to do that, right when they were going over the edge. He couldn't do this to her. It felt like he was taking advantage of her.

He moved his lips to her neck, kissing the soft skin there and leaving a small mark, just so she could brag about it. Yup, he was always thinking about others. He felt her shift, and then heard her groan. He smirked just a little. She groaned again and shifted so her mouth was back on his, connected and restoring their sparks.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew this was wrong. She was only seventeen, and he was twenty-two. It was ironic how they got together like this in the first place. But that was a story for another time.

They broke for air again. She flopped back down on his bed, grinning like a child. He, on the other hand, ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing out loud. He was on edge, fear of someone walking in any moment. They weren't exactly quiet, to say the least.

"You have make out hair," she mumbled, voice a little raspy.

He ran another hand through his hair, trying to clear his head. What if someone walked in? Would they be disgusted or shocked, or even both? He smirked a little at that thought. What if they walked in whilst something a little... graphic were happening? He shrugged inwardly. What's the fun in getting caught? What's the fun in doing what your told?

So there they were. Twenty-two; blonde; insane out of his mind. Seventeen; brunette; energetic little ball of sunshine, but otherwise naive and young.

He glanced back at her. She was inspecting her hair with a lazy grin on her face. Like always, she would be smiling after their bout of kisses. He liked seeing her smile. It drove him crazy when she grinned at him with her smile reaching her eyes. True happiness. And most of the time, he put it there.

Yet, there was always that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. He was taking the poor innocence out of her. She was young, free and naive; so easy to mold into something bad and disastrous, like himself. He sighed, suddenly letting the thought take over for just a second. He closed his eyes for a bit too, trying to make something out of the situation.

There were so many things not right with this, and yet, he couldn't get her out. She was like an annoying bug, pestering him until she got what she wanted. And he was helpless, not knowing what to do.

And yet, he had the power to do everything.

He was in a state of his own thoughts when she climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist. She grinned at him and placed light kisses along his jaw. He tried to keep his feelings under control. He moaned.

He felt her smirk into the kisses. She moved her mouth towards his neck, biting on his neck gently. He sighed, rolling his eyes back in pleasure. Her hands were on his chest, but they were slowly making their way down. She brushed his abdomen before lowering her hand just where his navel was. He realized what was happening before abruptly stopping it.

"No," he mumbled. She sighed before sitting back up on his lap.

"Oh give it a rest, I could persuade you! I'm not your typical, stoned eighteen year old. Give me a night, I'll make you!" She pleaded, her eyes shining with curiosity. He sighed, she moved her hand back to his stomach, drawing lazy circles. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips, pushing him backwards. they both fell on the bed, backs pressed on the mattress.

"I'm not your saviour," he groaned against her. She stared back at him with fire in her eyes before attacking his lips once more.

He tried his best to dodge her frenzy of affection. He stood up and tried to push her off, but she kept coming back for more. They tumbled to the ground in a fit of love and hate. He soon gave up, devouring her mouth once more.

Oh god.

...

He held her cold hands in his big warm ones. She was gazing at him with a questioning glare. He chose to ignore it, however. She turned her head back to their movie, playing some olden-romance.

He rubbed his thumb over her small hand, drawing circles on her pale skin. He increased the friction, feeling a little nauseous with the thoughts filling his head.

He wondered how they got there. The two of them, wrapped in each other's embrace mentally. Physically, they were ignoring each other to enjoy the movie, and yet, mentally, they were locked in a battle of love and romance. However, love and romance would be the last thing he would call it.

It was more a, drunken love kind of affair. Yet, neither of them were drunk, and fully aware of everything they do. And that scared him the most. He just didn't want this to be something that she would regret later on.

He frowned, trying to figure out how everything went by so quickly. He recalled a drunken night a few months ago. Merely an accidentally, however. He remembered a frenzy of images, clashing in his brain to form what was a night. He caught glimpses of things here and there; discarded heels, a ripped blouse, a wrinkled tie.

The feeling of her hands brought him back. She was returning the favour by running her thumb along his index finger. He felt the spark between them every time their fingers met each other's. This had been going on for a while now. And not the movie, the state.

He frowned, trying to remember when she moved in. Or what happened before and after. He was so lost in everything. Countless nights of happiness, then guilt, then resent. And the cycle only repeated itself.

But what was making him wonder was why. Why was he resentful of everything that was happening when she gave him so much joy. He frowned, trying to make sense of things. Resent was the last thing on his mind. It was more of an _oh-god-what-have-I-done_ kind of moment every second of his waking life.

His brown eyes stayed glued to the screen as he let the thoughts wash over him. He was becoming more and more aware of someone staring at him as he let his mind wander.

...

He crashed his lips onto hers as they pushed their way into his bedroom.

Or theirs.

It's changed over the past couple of months. He wasn't sure what it was anymore.

They recklessly made their way into the room, stumbling over each other rather roughly. His hands were cupping her face, trying to get better access of her small form. She was flush against him, stumbling over her small feet whilst her arms roamed his back. She was kissing him back, just as hard. Her breath darted over his face daringly.

He pushed a stray hair out of her face, sneaking a glance at her. Her eyes were closed, making her look gentle and soft, as she is. He wondered why she would let a roughhouser like him take advantage of her. He wasn't trying to. He just couldn't help it. Sometimes, he felt like that, but right now, all he could see was her.

She pressed her body against his as they fell backwards, tumbling onto the bed. Her under him. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo of an angel. And that was exactly what she was. An angel. Too pure, too good for this world yet alone good and pure enough for him.

He hungrily devoured her face in kisses, adjectives and cusses spilling from his lips. Most of them were synonyms for the word beautiful, but mostly it was 'fuck.' She moaned under him. He felt the buttons of his shirt slowly being undone as he slid her small dress off her body slowly. They discarded the garments, casting them aside. They were probably going to be forgotten until tomorrow when he tried to make sense of the night.

He relished the feeling of her milky smooth skin. She was an angel. Pure and too good for this world alone. Her face was flush with his affection, and he was sure he looked the same. He wondered how someone of such an ignorant mind could bring something like this upon him. He was no hormone-crazed teenager, and yet, she sure could make him feel like one.

And soon, they were both undressed into nothing more. She was glancing at him with her angelic face glowing in the dimmed lights of his, _their_ , room. He was suddenly aware that she's never done this before. But everything was laid out already. He sat back on his haunches.

He ran a hand through his gold locks. He tugged on it in frustration, sighing when his mind wandered to the way she tugged on his hair. She was staring at him expectantly.

"I-I think you better go; I can't take you," he mumbled, running a hand through his increasingly-growing hair. She frowned at him before sitting up. Her pale skin daunted him. He gulped nervously, sighing to cover his frustration.

He couldn't do this.

She challenged him with her eyes. They glowed with much more than he knew she knew. It messed him up when she was the one in control. It scared him that he was doing this to her.

Was she mirroring something of her own, or his own hungry fire?

"You just sit and get stoned with thirty year olds and you think you've made it," she retorted in his face, voice dripping with sass. He frowned. It was true. All he did was get wasted with his friends whilst she was off somewhere with hers. Probably shopping and shit.

He wondered how she knew, since he tried so hard to protect her from things like this. Yet, she knew anyways.

He felt a growing irritation towards her. She was being such a smartass. And it was getting on his nerve. In the good and bad way. He pursed his lips, trying to think of something to shut her smart mouth.

"Well, shouldn't you be fucking with somebody your age instead of making changes?" He challenged back. She just rolled her eyes. Her fire infuriated him. She was making him glower over with anger and frustration, but at the same time, she was so goddamned perfect.

He didn't want to say something that would hurt her. Or damage her. She was a clean soul, someone who should be around him. He was anything but a pure, goddamned soul.

She was like a white sheet. And he was a barrel of black paint. It was dangerous to play close to something so staining and influencing. One bad turn and the white sheet could be completely submerged into the inky paint, staining it for life.

Yet, he couldn't stay away. And he knew she wouldn't want to either.

He groaned inwardly and told his mind to shut up for a second. He looked at her, sitting close to him with her eyebrows furrowed into a scowl. Her face was too beautiful for a scowl of that state. And she was all natural, too.

If he were a hormone-crazed teenager, god, the things he would've done to her by then.

He caught her staring at him before abruptly pulling her closer to him, kissing her gently before breaking into a faster, desperate pace.

...

He paced the room, angry, frustrated, seething with anger. All of the above. She sat on the couch, crossing her arms at him.

He couldn't do this anymore. She was a girl for God's sake. A young, pretty, naive girl with so much potential and life left in her. He was wasted and drained from everything, regretting everything before she had ever stepped into his life. They were complete opposites.

But then he remembered that opposites attract.

He let his thoughts run miles per minute. He knew this was bound to happen. It was all that had been happening for the past months. Every time something like that came up, he would shut it down, making her fire over with anger.

He wondered why she cared so much. It wasn't like she was being careful or anything. He would always chastise her that she was taking things too far, and she always retorted back by making some smart comment that effectively shut him up.

She was the death of him.

She was so complicated. This whole thing was, really. All he wanted to do was make sure she was okay. She would always tell him to 'live a little,' and he would snort and tell her 'who's talking.'

He continued his angry pace, anger and thoughts running through his brain.

He would shut her out, trying to make sense of everything. And yet she was always there, igniting the fire once more.

He shook his head as he felt her hand on his shoulder. It was meant to comfort him, but it just reminded him why he was mad in the first place. He shook her off harshly before pacing again, never stopping once. He heard her sigh. He rolled his eyes before turning to her, eyes burning.

"I told you from the start, this is destined to be hard," he spoke in a tone meant to scare but at the same time be serious. It was hard, using a tone like that on her. She was precious; looking like she could break at any moment. He was surprised with her, she seemed stronger than most.

She hadn't broken yet. He thought that she would be the one-night stand kind of girl. But she was as tough as it gets. She was one in a million. Someone who could take whatever you throw at her. Especially words.

He learned that the hard way.

She remained silent, trailing her eyes on him. She kept her arms crossed and brows furrowed to show a scowl. He mirrored her actions before pacing again, running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip in an attempt to get the idea into grasp. It was just on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be rolled off into a bout of words. He scratched his chin, realization dawning on him.

"I'll break your heart," he mumbled. He was frantic for an answer, and finally, it hit him. Something finally seemed to pass her thick head. She looked at him with wide eyes. He stopped pacing before flipping down on the couch next to her. She was still staring with her big doe eyes.

It was like he just admitted to killing someone, the way she was watching him. He buried his head into his hands, shaking his cranium from side to side sadly. That was it. The last straw. He finally came clean with his worries and thoughts. He was afraid that once he did, he would lose her. But what she did next surprised him.

She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting manner before resting her head on his shoulder. They were silent, the mutual feeling of completeness surrounded them. He wondered why she always forgave him, or how she even understood.

...

He was watching her. They lay side by side on his, _their_ , bed. She was sleeping, her face relaxed and peaceful. He wondered if that was always how she felt. She was always bouncing around on her feet, glowing over with happiness and energy from God knows where.

It was like she was high on caffeine, and yet, all she drank was water. He realized that he was her caffeine. He was the high that she was living off.

She was just so different. It couldn't be how he felt, since he was constantly wondering why. He just wanted the best for her, and yet, here he was. He couldn't let her go. He had it bad for her, and it drove him insane. He knew it was bad, bad for her, really. But he couldn't give her up; she was special. He frowned.

He rolled over onto his back, placing his hands on his chest, clasping them together. He let the thoughts wash over him.

 _She can't be what you need, if she's seventeen._

He grinned, feeling a little accomplished that he had defied that. She was exactly what he needed, and yes, she's seventeen. She was the exact mix between good and bad. She had that angel smile, and yet, he knew exact what that devilish smile of hers could do.

He turned back to her, only to find her eyes open and placed on him. He came to the realization of something, as he got lost into her deep eyes.

He knew why he always doubted himself. Age, maturity, innocence and everything in between made him nervous. Nervous for her. He wondered why she chose him. Out of everyone else, especially ones closer to her own age.

Now, as he lay staring into her eyes, he knew exactly why. She went headfirst into things without thinking to prevent doubt and later, guilt. She would never have that _I-wonder-what-could've-been_ moment, because she took the chance. She took it and never looked back.

And that was what life was about. Not worrying over the people you choose. If it happened, it happened for a reason.

He felt so stupid, trying to understand everything. It made him crazy at one point, with all the thoughts going through his head. It was a miracle that he didn't have a head full of white hair instead of blonde by now.

He realized that instead of her being the innocent and scared one, it was him all along. He was being stupid in thinking that he was no good, when really, they were meant for each other. They were meant for each other because they balanced each other out.

He was the worried, yet rebellious one. And she, well. She was the carefree, yet wise one. They fit together so well, he would've smacked himself on the head if a pair of brown eyes weren't on him.

And to say in the least. She was a girl. A simple, young, anything-but naive girl who he found fiery, smart, and irresistible. She was just a girl. A girl who he knew now was perfect for him. Perfect in the most imperfect ways possible. They were made for each other.

"Austin," she breathed. Her face glowed with enforced chastity, making her look ever so young and light. He knew she was the complete opposite of that however. She was smart, funny, cunning and certainly anything but pure. He knew her works in the certain art people referred to as 'the bed.' But, somehow, she always found a way to return his mind to thinking she was an angel.

It drove him insane.

He suddenly kissed her slowly, fitting his mouth to hers. It was such a sweet kiss, even he wanted to melt. They never shared something so sweet before. He missed her in those times when _he_ was being the naive one. Always denying everything that he had in front of him. He wondered how they had switched roles being the bigger person.

As he moved his lips against hers, he realized, it had been that way all along. She was the one who wanted this, and all he had to do was comply. He was the one who was scared to take a chance, for fear of hurting her. But she was ready. Ready for everything.

"Ally."


End file.
